Pretty as a Car Crash
by Quite Silent
Summary: Part of her died that night, He called himself Booth as he stole her dignity. Chap. 10 is up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are of the minds of Kathy Reichs, Fox, Josephson Entertainment and Far Field Productions.

Lights flashed and blurred in her vision as she slowly opened her baby blues. Their lids felt heavy and swollen as she took in her bright surroundings, her first conscious intake of breath racking her lungs and sending pain shooting up her spine. The world was too bright, it's colors too vivid and it's shapes too dull and blurred. She couldn't figure out where she was. Heat blared down on her and a nearly unbearable stench danced into her nostrils as she took deep, paining breaths. Closing her eyes once more she tried to stop the pounding that seemed to shake her head.

Slowly opening her eyes once more the world came into focus. To the left of her arose a tall brick wall, an identical figure standing at her right. She lay on something lumpy and slick, the smell emitting from the shiny black that lay beneath her. Moving to sit up she screamed, a nauseating pain cascading down her back and sliding through her intestine and abdomen into her chest and stomach. Dropping back down she turned over, vomit meeting concrete before she could register her reaction to the pain. Picking up her right hand to wipe her mouth it felt heavy and limp, the fingers purple and swollen. Still looking towards the ground she realized her bed was made of garbage bags, her resting place being an ally.

Trying to sit up once more she bit her lips, tolerating the pain in the pursuit of answers. Out of breath, she waited to stand up. Flapping in the breeze above her, a close line connected the two buildings, a shirt, pair of underwear, trousers and a pair of jeans hanging from the line. The garments set off a slight tingle of a memory. Looking down at her body she found it beaten and exposed, her shirt up around her neck, her breasts exposed and her bra missing. Blushing she pulled the shirt down to find her jeans down around her ankles, her underwear around her knees. Her thighs and stomach were bruised, her pelvic area bloodied and swollen. Her underwear was blood soaked and steamers of red covered her jeans.

_Oh My God_

Taking in a deep breath she tried to stand, pulling up her undergarments and jeans as she did so. Taking a step foreword she stumbled, her hands scrapping against the rough and dirtied concrete, each hand leaving a dull, red print on the grey surface. A loud crackle and thud sound reached her ears as she watched the small cell phone fall from her jeans pocket. Picking it up, she stood once more, this time with the support of the brick wall to the right of her. Following it to the street she inhaled deeply, a loud pop sounding in her back accompanied by a whimper. There were no cars in sight and she had no keys. Looking down at the cell phone in her hands she bright it to her ear. Shaking her head she brought it down again. _Call Ange. She can come pick you up. _Dialing the number she held it once again to her ear, this time a loud ring sounding, followed by a click.

"Bren?!" a frantic voice called.

"Ange, I need you to come get me."

"Oh My God Bren! Where the Hell have you been?!"

Looking around she spotted a street sign "At the corner of Alice and Smith."

"Bren I tried calling you, I even went to your house! If you were going to ditch me you could have at least told me you were busy."

"Just come and get me Ange." Her voice cracked and sounded odd to her.

"Tempe, are you drunk? Ughh... I'll be there in five minutes."

"Thanks" she hung up the phone, placing it back into her pocket. Starring down the street she watched as a dark green mini van whizzed by. Sucking in air she could barely hold herself up, her heart pounding, and her mouth becoming dry as it hit her, all of the pain seemed to come back at once, the memory burning in her eyes as she watched it all happen again.

_I was raped._

A/n: I apologize for the graphic-ness.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: these characters belong to Kathy Reichs, Far Field Productions, Fox and Josephson Entertainment.

Angela pulled up to the street corner, her anger keeping her from completely looking at her best friend. They had made plans to go out last night with Hodgins and Booth but it had never happened. Brennan had failed to show up at the chosen bar and it had worried her, so she had searched for her friend, finding her apartment empty and her car missing. The event had ruined her whole evening.

Pulling up now she pulled stopped the car just in front of her friend, her eyes implanted before her on the road ahead, her anger keeping her from looking at Brennan. Silently she listened for the car door to open. When it didn't happen her anger only rose.

"Bren get in the car." she said sternly, finally turning to look at her. The sight burnt into her mind liek a branding fork against a bull's side.

"I don't want to ruin our seats." she managed to choke out. Tears streamed down her dirtied and blood caked cheeks, her lips cracked and her eyes black and swollen. Blood covered her white shirt and you could see her breasts through the thin fabric.

"Bren?" her voice cracked as she looked her friend over, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door.

"He raped me Ange."

She raced around the car, catching her best friend as Brennan fell towards the concrete. Angela knelt down, her knees meeting the ground as she set Brennan into a sitting position against her own body. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her wrists darkened and her left appearing to be broken.

"Oh my God Temperance." Tears began to slip from her own eyes. "Who! Who raped you?"

"Booth." The words left her mouth easier than she had expected. Angela began shaking her head.

"No Sweetie, Booth isn't here." She began to rub Brennan's hair, rocking their bodies together.

She mumbled something under her breath, then "He raped me. Booth raped me."

The rocking abruptly stopped.

"What?" the word barely escaped her lips.

"It was Booth, Ange, He kept telling me who he was….He kept." New tears streamed down her face. "And I couldn't stop him Ange, I couldn't. He was bigger and he hit me first, he knocked me down. I couldn't stop him, Why couldn't I? Why couldn't I stop him Angela? I was supposed to but I…" She abruptly went silent, her voice trailing off as a tremble took over her shoulders.

"Shh, Tempe, Hunny, Booth was with me last night. Booth couldn't have hurt you, he was just as worried as I was about you, he came with me to find you last night."

She didn't respond, though the shaking ceased.

"Brennan, Sweetie, I'm going to take you to a hospital." She said between choking tears. "You'll be okay Tempe."

Standing up she pulled Brennan with her, the two standing up as one. Opening the car door Ange helped the anthropologist into the seat, buckling her in and shutting the door. Entering the other side, she stepped on the gas, the car taking off in the direction of the Ladies St. Catherine hospital.

"You weren't going to ruin my seat sweetie." she coughed out between bursts of tears.

_How could this happen?_

A/n: Tada, More to come soon hopefully!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Kathy Reichs, Far Field Productions, Josephson Entertainment and Fox.

The clicking of her heals against cement reverberated off of the tall apartments and shops that surrounded her, as she walked a large plastic bag swung from it's hook around her elbow, it's weight pulling her arm down as she lent her full attention to her hands and purse, their purpose to out her wallet back into the small black bag. Coming to a stop just past a towering, brick red apartment building she started when a blue SUV full of college students whizzed by, the truck's tired squealing on the road only a few feet from her, their voices echoing, just as her shoes had, loudly off of the buildings. Her eyes followed the truck as it spun and twisted around the corner, the image disappearing before the sound of their voices did, her pulse slightly sounding over their loud cries as her heart pounded in her chest.

That's when the metal bar had made acquaintances with her spine. The blow was sudden and jarring, knocking her nearly onto all fours, her knees scraping against rough concrete as they made their landing. The second blow hit her left ribs just as her full weight met the ground, a loud, unanimous pop sounding in the empty night air. Bending further her hands smashed into the hard ground, her lungs dying for breath as she gasped, taking in gulps of cool air. Suddenly a strong, strangely warm set of arms wrapped around her middle, their strength lifting her from the ground backwards, their action to swift to allow her time to retaliate. Limp in her attackers arms her fight or flight response began to take complete hold of her body. Her arms began to flail, her heals swinging in hopes of meeting his shins.

It seemed to take forever for something to happen, the arms pulling her further back into the darkening ally for what seemed like hours compared to mere moments. Finally her heal meat something thick and hard, the arms immediately letting go of her sore frame. Taking off in a full sprint she dropped her purse and bag, the rhythm of her foot falls bouncing back towards her as it had earlier, this time more rapidly. Within seconds of her flight her attackers own reverberating footsteps caught up to hers, his hands reaching for her wrists. Making it to the corner of the old building, the light at the end of the tunnel, she reached out into the air, prepared to scream.

Abruptly she was in his grasp once more, his left hand taking hold of her left wrist and bending it skyward behind her back, the wrist snapping like dry timber as her body twisted and she stumbled over her own legs. She hit the ground and saw stars. She felt his hands reach for her waist band, his body above her head as he wrapped his fingers around the bulk of her belt and pulling. Dazed by the fall she paid the dragging no mind, her concern locked onto her skull; it had ricochet off of the ally's floor when she had fallen, a mind slapping blow that had sent her head bouncing off of the concrete.

Reaching towards her face she circled her head with her hand to check for blood or injury. Miraculously neither was present. Somewhere on the outside of her consciousness she realized the dragging had stopped.

Now pulling came from another direction entirely, he had a hold of her now under the arms and was lifting her onto something bumpy and pliable, a stench puffing out under her weight. _Do something Brennan!_ The outline of his form shown for only a moment as he stood over her, his fist coming down hard on her right cheek, then her lips ad jaw. She tasted blood but felt nothing but a sharp tingling in the base of her neck, as though it had fallen asleep, a slight numbness gliding over her features. However she did feel his hands begin to slide from her shoulders and over her chest, the ten fingers that branched from his palms sliding with the curve of her waist and hips down to the top of her jeans. He began tugging on them for a moment but stopped. Suddenly he pressed himself against her thighs, a bulge pressing into her leg.

"This is for you Bones, It's all for you." The voice crackled into her ears like thunder. She couldn't recognize it, though it sounded faintly familiar. Suddenly she felt a faint movement at her pelvis, her hands instinctually going for the zipper that had just been pulled down. In a daze she grabbed the edge of her pants, her fingers wrapping around the fabric in a type grip.

"Let go." He called, his hands wrapping around her wrists.

When she didn't comply with his orders another fist came down, knuckles sliding over the bridge of her brow bone, in turn her senses began to numb and slow, her vision blurring. She felt the faint tug again, her mind begging her to struggle against it and so she did, her hips spinning and her arms reaching for him. She began to make as much noise as possible, her attempt at words coming out between swollen lips as mumbles and moans.

"You just don't give up do you?" she felt the waist band of her jeans come loose, the fabric sliding down her legs. The sounds became louder, a hand clamping down over her mouth. Spreading her lips she bared her teeth beneath the thick hand. Biting down her captor let out a yelp, the hand flying from her mouth as she felt her underwear fall just above her jeans, her lower body exposed. Screaming now she began to kick her legs but his weight was too much as he leaned into her, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as he staked his claim. Disgusted with herself and her attacker she began to give up, a dull sense of aching filling her body with each pulse of his body against hers. She began to sob aloud, her throat clenching as she coughed out tears.

"Shhhh…." He leaned into her ear, his breath hot against her ear as he moaned the words. "Be quite, Shhh Baby, Its Booth, Its Okay Bones, Its Booth." A cry seeped from her lips; a small, frail scream that had barely slipped from her lungs.

He repeated it as though it was a mantra. "It's Booth, Bones, I'm Booth." Each time he had entered her more violently, a single cry never escaping her lips.

The words had swirled around her mind, the sound of Booth's name the last thing she heard before she slipped into a happily welcomed sleep.

A/n: First I'd like to apologize for how graphic this chapter, second, I'd like to also apologize for the wait, however I was not particularly enthused about writing this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own them. However thy do belong to Kathy Riechs, Fox, Josephson entertainment and Far Field productions.

Seconds ticked by like water dripping from an unsealed faucet; a wet, slush sound that resounded in the depth of his ears as he waited, sick with guilt ridden nausea. Angela had briefly explained to him what had happened to his partner, including how he had inadvertently been involved.

He had arrived at the hospital about an hour and a half after Bones had checked into the hospital, Angela's call to him reaching him as he stepped off of the plane, his phone informing him that he had checked it an hour too late. That left the single half hour in which he drove blindly and full-headedly to the hospital in which he now sat, listening solely to the clocks ticks in order to keep from snapping into reality, it's cold, hard hand threatening to meet his face n a thick slap.

She thought he did it.

The thought turned sour in his mind; an ulcer on the side of distraction, it sank deep into his mind, lurking like an eel, waiting in the oral folds of his pounding brain. Quietly he heard his name being called, and then a slight movement to his left as Angela squatted before him. He must have been looking down.

"Booth?" she drew his attention to her eyes, the deep brown of them tired and restless at once; a quality the artist's eyes rarely possessed.

Nodding she turned her head away from him, his neck following her movement until his own eyes halted on the slim figure of his partner, a ragged, thin creature comparable to a statue that visibly tensed under his gaze.

Her face was a deep shade of raspberry purple, her throat a bruised cylinder just above two tired, sunken shoulders. Standing slowly he took in how she wrapped herself in her own arms, two thin, white bands cris-crossing over and around her sides.

Taking a step closer his heart sank as he watched her struggle not to take a step to back away from him. She was afraid.

Bones didn't fear anyone.

What the fuck had this guy done to her?

He needed now, more than ever, to make good on his promise, to stake his claim on the hug he swore to share with her if he felt frightened.

Standing before her now he knew this woman would never view him in the same way, she would forever associate him with the disaster that had waged its way through her body the night before. And he hadn't been there to save her, to stop the bastard from hurting her, to stop the sick fuck from using his name as he stole his partner's dignity and strength.

Then as he met his partner's eyes he saw the horror of a caged animal; a small white rabbit facing the approach of a fox, its teeth bared, and a clear knowledge between both animals of what the fox could do to the slender, hopeless hare.

Daring to take a step closer his partner finally took the step backwards, shoulders bunching and fists tightening their grip on her sides.

"Booth" She managed to croak, her voice stale and choked.

"Bones, I-"

This time she more than flinched, her eyes closing and her jaw tightening, her shirt bunching into painful waves as she took in short, shallow breaths.

"Angela," she turned her attention to her best friend. "I can't do this right now."

"Sweetie, I know this is rough but,"

"No Ange, This is more than rough. I can't." Abruptly she turned away from them, her shoulders shaking slightly as she began to walk toward the nurses counter.

"Oh God, Booth I'm so sorry." Ange tried to comfort him. "She told me she'd be alright seeing you after…all this." She chose her words carefully.

"Its fine Angela." It wasn't. His partner couldn't even stand to look at him right now, a fear that he had never associated with Bones tearing through her.

"Just give her a few days, maybe a week or so. She'll be able to handle you by then." The artist reassured him before saying goodbye, meeting her best friend at the hospital's entrance doors.

Slumping back into the uncomfortable hospital chair he let his head fall to his hands, defeated. Temperance Brennan was no longer Bones, to herself, or him.

A/N: sorry it took so long! I'm kind of way out of it and screwed up this chapter a few times. Sorry it's so short to!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Kathy Reichs, Far Field Productions, Josephson Entertainment and Fox.

The sun burnt, harsh on her pale skin as her eyes trailed thick bruises and thin, red cuts and scratches, her baby blues taking in the horror that was her torn body, a plain of creamy splotches against a sea of deep reds and browns. With a sickening smirk the thought of an off-balance Dalmatian flitted through her mind; a black dog with white spots. She dare not remove more than her shirt as she stood before the tall, closet mirror, her, she had no desire to see the real damage that had been done to not solely her body, but her life. Turning, she faced the half opened window of her apartment's bedroom, a small dot soaring by in the distance, a plane. Her heart immediately quickened, her thoughts going back to the small toy she had just purchased for her partners boy, a small antique wooden airplane, on the night of her attack. Coughing suddenly she found herself in her bathroom, her toilet filled with what was left of the morning's half bowl of cereal. She didn't remember running to the room, just seeing the figure on top of her again, his hands rolling along her body as he penetrated her. Standing shakily she grasped the back of the toilet to steady her ascent, her reflection this time portraying the face of a broken girl, not a brutalized woman.

Three days. Silently she repeated the two words in her mind, it had been a full three days since the attack had occurred, it wasn't rational for her to still be so disturbed by the events, but it _was_ rational. She had been raped by a man who claimed her partner's name. Any one would have reacted this way. But not her. She was supposed to be the strong, cold-hearted doctor, the woman who would never be attacked or terrorized again, but she was finding herself to be anything but this figure she compared herself too.

Flushing the toilet she wiped her mouth the her left hand, her right heavily wrapped in a support bandage, the purpose of which she didn't understand, a cast wouldn't have been much thicker.

Looking around her room she felt suddenly alone, a mix of disgust and need as she wanted the warmth and presence of another, but feared the touch or even look of another human being, the overbearing fear of the monster that that person could become shaking her heart and breaths.

She didn't trust anyone at the moment, not even Angela, who had lied to her about Booth's where-abouts the night of her attack. He hadn't been with Ange, but in South Carolina on a case she hadn't been needed on. She could understand the Artist's logic in lying to her, her intention to help both Booth and herself, but it had blown up in each of their faces when Angela had finally told her yesterday.

Gingerly pulling a shirt over her clean, straightened hair and scrubbed-raw shoulders she took another glance at herself. She had come into the habit of bathing three to five times a day, a habit that she knew to be familiar to rape victims, but couldn't stop herself from doing. She could still feel his hands on her, his body against hers, his skin's oils all over her own skin. The thought made her stomach tighten, the threat of her gag reflex chirping in, though there was nothing left to throw up.

Taking one last look around her room, she heaved a sigh, gathering what confidence she had left she left the room, then her apartment for the first time in three days.

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The movement on the streets was heavy for a work day, the usually quiet sub streets seemed to pour over with people, herds of not only tourists but businessmen and woman, as well as the occasional school tour and group of kids playing hooky filled sidewalks and markets. Assuring herself that it was indeed a Monday she took I the sun's bright, direct rays, the transitional winds of fall's beginning sweeping past her, the dark waves that hung around her bruised face lifting on the winds tangent. Watching the people she passed she became fascinated with the ease with which each moved or laughed or sighed. Normalcy seemed crude to her now, a silver lining to an ever blackening cloud. If she couldn't have her own she'd relish in theirs.

Glad she had worn a pair of old sneakers she walked slowly down the market streets, her eyes tracing the movement of others, glad to hear the laughter and speech of others instead of the lonely click of her feet on the warm concrete. Focusing on a group of children she smiled, two of them, both little girls, began to wander from the group, each smiling at each other mischievously. Next to them a street vendor's stereo burst into a song she had never heard before, each girls face brightening as they recognized the music. In an instant the two were dancing and giggling, one with her eyes closed, the other surveying their audience. Suddenly one of the girls was jerked backward, a movement that made Brennan jump. Quickening her pace she nearly ran towards the girls.

_NoNoNoNoNo_ the words flew through her head, a silent mantra as she made her way towards them, stopping abruptly as her eyes caught the source of the movement. The girls' caregiver had spotted them straying from the crowd, her worry causing her to jerk them back into her arms; into Safety. A sigh barely escaped her lips, the breath she hadn't realized she was holding slipping out in short, staggered gasps.

Closing her eyes she felt the world spinning on its side, the movement sending her hands to her stomach as though the shaky flesh and bone could keep her gag reflex in check. In her mind all of the earth's water sources, rivers, lakes, oceans, all began to pour out as the imaginary world tipped. Suddenly a quake met her shoulder, a jarring blast of reality that swam through her spine and into her eyes. Flying open, her clear blue orbs followed the back of the woman who had bumped into her, then caught a movement from behind her, a sinister black shadow that darted between passer-bys.

Sending her legs into power once more she began to walk, her steps this time sounding loudly amongst a swarm of others, her ears straining to pick up what she hoped would be a familiar pattern of steps, but her thoughts couldn't sort themselves, an upheaval of panic and confusion filling her head. Testing the movement behind her she let it follow her for a few minutes, an overpowering since of horror slipping over her awareness.

Quickly ducking into an ally she waited for him to pass her. Minutes ticked by like hours, the once slight thud of her watches hand turning suddenly shatteringly loud and physical as she felt each tick on the inside of her wrist, the tiny clock's rhythm slow in comparison to her heart's race. The two minutes she stood their, chest heaving seemed to pass like days, but he did not make his way past the ally, did he know she was there?

She could feel her lungs burn, feel the breath rip in and out of her throat as she tried to breathe. It wasn't working. Her head began to pound, her senses heightened as she heard now, a familiar beat of foot falls coming closer, her eyes slammed shut and her body tensed. Air intake ceased to exist; all feeling went numb as she heard one step cross the corner, a second signaling that he had entered the ally, his body facing hers.

Her eyes never opened, but she could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, a hot sensation in light of none.

"Please." She heard a female voice slip into the stale air, realized her own lips were moving, "Please don't, oh God, please." She felt her body sliding under her, a full view present in her mind as though she were standing there, watching herself collapse against the hard concrete, her knees pulled up to her chest.

Her upper body fell limp, awkwardly bending away from her knees at an angle as her arms wrapped around her torso, one hand sliding up a thin shoulder to cover a frail face.

--------

His heart shattered into thousands of tiny shards, like a glass orb thrown against the brick of an old sturdy wall. He had seen her crossing through the marketplace, had watched her observe the two young girls and had realized how much it had disturbed her when their mother had reached out for them. But she hadn't seen it that way, she had seen the little girls yanked back by what could have been her own attacker, and now she lay, broken and weak on the dirty floor of an old ally way.

"Temperance." He knelt down before her, his knees cracking as his face reached her level. He dared not touch her, his hands shaking just as badly as her own, her mouth twisted in a horrific, teeth bearing frown, streaks of liquid covering her face.

She didn't move, her shoulders racking as she listened.

"Booth." She barely whispered the name as she slowly slid the protective hand down her face, smearing tear stains across her bruised cheeks. She wanted to, but couldn't hug him. He had done this to her. The mix of needs to cherish his presence and to get away burst into her mind, a confusion that was new to her.

Another sob shook her body as adrenaline kicked in once more, her body quickly jolting as she pushed herself away from him, knees scraping on the concrete and reopening wounds. His body followed her own in an equally jerky motion, though slightly less intentionally so.

She felt the scream tear through her throat, though it appeared to them both as a disgruntled moan, an almost growling sound as it caught in her throat.

"Brennan, Temperance, its fine, I'm not going to hurt you."

She thrust herself away from him once more this time crying out in pain as her new wounds scraped against the gravel, her weight landing on her fractured wrist as she tried to stand. He could see sharp pieces of loose gravel amongst the blood that dripped down her shins. She was hurting herself trying to get away from him. Unsure of what to do her took hold of her bad wrist, hating himself for what he was about to do.

"Temperance!" he yelled the name into her face, "Calm down! It's alright!" he practically yanked her off of the ground, his heart aching as he watched her squirm, this time a full blown scream escaping her lips.

"You need to get to a hospital!" he challenged the volume of her scream with her own. He could feel the eyes of those outside of the ally peering in.

Her mind told her to be rational, there were people around, witnesses, and he was Booth; Her Booth, a man who had saved her countless times, who had risked his own life to save hers. He wouldn't do a single thing to hurt her, to damage her in any way. She let her body relax against his for a moment, her heart still rattling against bone as her body suddenly became exhausted. She felt her weight lift from her own torn and bloodied knees, a strong arm resting in their crook as another cradled her shoulders. Abruptly adrenaline surged back for a final blow. Could she be sure he was taking her to a hospital? Not some other ally or his home or some other place? So he could hurt her, torture her again? Her arms began to swing, her legs shaking.

"Stop!" she could hear her own voice in the air, felt his grip tighten as she struggled once more, then his voice filled the space hers once held.

"Someone help me get her to my vehicle!" he shouted, her eyes shot open as she watched his face contort as he struggled to keep hold of her. "She's hurt, someone better get their goddamned ass over here and help me get her to my car!"

Abruptly a man ran from the crowd of spectators to help hold her still, as his hands met her back and stomach she felt the energy drain from every inch of her body, a final kick sending her body limp as her breaths staggered and weakened. A barely audible "Thank you" from Booth filled the air as she was set gingerly down into a car seat, her head drooping as she gave up, the loud sound of a door slamming then sirens blaring. A gentle hand reached over and swept bangs from her face, then moved to the glove compartment, a white towel emerging. Softy the fabric was pressed against one knee, then the other, her eyes re opening to look at the man next to whom she sat, a small smile crossing his face.

"You'll be Okay Temperance." His eyes looked dangerously red, the threat of tears just on the brink of his lashes. "You'll be fine, I promise."

His soft smile began to fade as her lashes blurred the image of his face, the slight pressure of the towel still on her knees as a single thought flitted through her mind.

This man Cared for her, he couldn't have damaged her so much.

On his own.

A/N: Okay, I feel like its sort of out of character for Bones, but I also think she's been placed in a horrific situation and I wrote how I felt she would react to such stress. Best wishes!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: these characters do not belong to me, but to Kathy Reichs, Fox, far field productions and Josephson entertainment.

A small layer of short, prong like fuzz covered the buzzing cylindrical base of the creature's small body. The stripes of it's back hummed and danced beneath the light fur, six curved, hook-like legs sprouting from the blinding stripes, holding it to the grey scale that lay beneath it. Brilliantly webbed, translucent sheets hung from the edge of a shining yellow; the first band of color that swept across the bee's back. It's wings twitched in the sun as it climbed the expanse of the off-white, graying hospital wall. It had gotten in through the window she had opened on the other side of the room.

She sat cross-legged on the hard, stark white bed, her elbows resting on her knees, the blue spotted paper gown resting across her folded legs. Her crystalline blue eyes traced the curves of the bee's small body and beady eyes. She could hear his voice speaking to her, her mind taking in the words, though her attention was on the small insect.

"Bones?" her face turned to his immediately.

"Huh," she let a limp hand fall across the gauze that wrapped around one knee, "How much longer until Parker's Birthday?"

The question threw him off, their topic having been on sleeping arrangements for her for the next few days. Until she had interrupted him.

"Uhm, two weeks, the thirteenth."

"Oh…" Her eyes drifted back to the bee, its body now on the ground and shriveling; its stinger marked as a block dot in the old wall.

"Why do you ask?" he was curious about her sudden inquiring. He had mentioned his son's birthday to her on several occasions, but she had declined his offer to attend the boy's party just as many times, she didn't do well with children, she would tell him before he could even finish asking her.

"Just curious." Her mind went back to the small antique plane she had bought the little boy the night she was attacked. It was going to be a surprise. She had already turned down all of Booth's invites but she knew Angela had asked him to bring Parker to the lab before the party so they all could wish him a happy birthday.

Suddenly she turned and looked at him, her face distraught and hopeful. "Am I still invited?"

He stared at her carefully, watching as she subconsciously picked at the stained gauze. "Yes, your still invited Bones."

"You're sure? I don't want to intrude." The picking ended abruptly as she must have realized she was doing it.

"You won't be intruding." He smiled half heartedly. It was odd of her to worry about intruding on anything, especially dealing with him.

She mirrored his smile, a yawn breaking her lips. Who could have helped him? The thought shot into her mind swifter that a bullet. Suddenly her eyes darted back to him as he fiddled with the golden cufflink on his right wrist. A past partner, a war veteran like him? It could have been anybody. Was the point to make her fear him, or to just damage her? Suddenly she felt naked; like he had walked into the room knowing what had happened to her, how it had happened to her and why it had happened to her. And he didn't _feel _like telling her. Of course that wasn't rational. He probably didn't know anything about it except what she had told him. But she couldn't just let it at that. He had to know more and she couldn't keep herself from thinking so. Her thoughts raced a mile a minutes until she felt his soft hand against her cheek, a sensation she had not felt before. A wave of tingles shot up her check to her temple and across her forehead.

"I'm glad your still here Bones. I can't stop thinking, he," he paused letting his hand drop to hers. "He could have killed you, or worse Bones, he could have done much worse. And..." his voice nearly cracked. He couldn't stand that the bastard had done this to her as him. He had stolen his identity. "I promise I'll get him. _We'll_ get him before he can do this to anyone else." He let go of her hand and leaned back once more in the uncomfortable chair, suddenly feeling foolish.

"Thank you." She whispered, lying down onto the hard mattress beneath her, her hands resting near her face. "Thank you Booth." This time it sounded stronger, a deep, confident smile crossing her lips as she closed her eyes.

A/n: Okay, This isan't going to be a shipper, but i thought some BBness was necessary to lighten the mood. Sorry this chapters short, but the other one should be up very soon!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters: they belong to Kathy Reichs, Fox, Far Field Productions and Josephson Entertainment.

It rolled and slid, rounded beads that slipped and crashed hard into a thin white, leaving a translucent stain that slowly faded once more into a snowy shade. The drops tumbled over moist skin and protruding collar bones onto the thin tank top that covered her still bruised shoulders. Angela watched as the writhing body moved against the cool sheets that lay beneath it, though the woman dare not cry out. Her lips merely parted in silent protest as she whipped her own body back and forth in the bed. Angela watched her sat beside her silently, a quite tear slipping over her cheek as she soundlessly hoped it would be over soon.

Brennan was having another nightmare, the third of the night, and the fourteenth since the first day her friend had come to stay with her, the day after Booth had followed her into town and she had ended up in the hospital. Sometimes she screamed during them, sometimes she cried, but they were never the same, except in the fact that each seemed extremely frightening to both Angela and Brennan. She couldn't wake her up because it only served to make the dreams worse. Angela had been awaken the first night, two nights ago, to hear her friend screaming at the top of her lungs, her body smashed into the corner of the guest bedroom, shaking. Unknowingly she had awoken the screaming doctor only to have to do so three more times to worse screaming and more violent shaking. After that episode she had left work early to speak with a psychiatrist about Brennan and had come to find it was best to leave the nightmares to play out.

And now she did just that, painfully watching as her sweating, panting friend clawed the sheets of her bed, brows furrowed and lips moving in breathless mumbles.

"Shhhh."

Slowly one clear eye opened then the other.

"Ange?"

"Are you okay Sweetie?" she reached for her friends hand.

"Yes." She sat up and suddenly a wave of nausea split down her side and into the pit of her stomach. "Ange, the bucket."

This was nothing new to her either. Nearly every time her friend awoke from one of these terrors she needed to vomit, the rate of the occurrence leading to the use of an old kitchen garbage bin as "the bucket" which was always kept near to her bed. Watching her now, she rubbed Brennan's back and shoulders as she spit into the old pale, her vertebrae dangerously close and pressed to the thin skin of her back. She hadn't eaten much in the last few days and what she had managed to eat she hadn't been able to keep down.

"I'm Okay Angela. Thank you." She set the bucket down against the bed's leg, turning back to her friend with a defeated smile.

"Did you know it was Booth this time or was it just the voice?"

"The voice; I'm so sorry Ange. I don't want to be a burden on you, it's not even, I mean, I shouldn't be afraid anymore, it's not rational."

"Sweetie, it's rational weather you want to believe it or not."

"But Ange, for this long? I;m being ridiculous, its something I should have been able to get over weeks ago."

"Bren, it didn't happen _weeks_ ago. It happened barely six days ago. I would be scared too."

"But your,"

"Too sensitive? A wimp."

"No, Ange, I'm sorry, it's just, I'm not supposed to feel like this, I'm supposed to get over it and be fine."

"The cold heartless doctor?"

"No, the sensible, rational, emotionally contained doctor."

"But you're still a human, Bren." She smiled lightly.

"What Time is it?"

Looking at her watch she stood from the bed.

"About six in the morning."

"Oh…I have something I have to do today okay?"

"You have legs." She smiled, laughing as she left the room, "Breakfast is on you."

Standing slowly she felt every bone in her body creak and pop as though she hadn't stood in two weeks. Stretching only served as a continuation of the orchestra of pops. Stepping into the clean pale green bathroom of Angela's guest room she slipped off her shirt, then her pajama pants, her knees shaky as she felt a sudden loneliness spread over her shoulders and down her chest, into her stomach where it sat, heavy and thick. Slowly inching into the shower she dreaded the cover of the shower's curtain, she couldn't see past it, couldn't observe her surroundings. Turning on the shower's nozzle she cringed again as the steaming liquid met her pale skin, pinking it as she struggled to hear over the water's sound. Jumping she thought she heard the slight creak of the bathroom's door opening, her hands instantly pulling back the milky curtain revealing a small, fog-filled, empty room. Taking in a deep, tremulous breath she shut the curtain once more, letting the warm water wash over her face.

* * *

She had dressed herself in a light colored skirt and dark blue and green layered long sleeved shirts. Her legs weren't badly bruised but she was ashamed of her shoulders and arms, each a canvas of fading blue and brown. Now she sat with a smoldering cup of coffee between her hands, a pair of untouched eggs lying on a plate before her as she watched Angela cut into a thick slice of French toast. 

"Bren, Eat, Please?"

"I'm just not hungry Ange, I'm Sorry."

"Sweetie, quit Apologizing and just eat the damn eggs."

Rolling her eyes she let go of the coffee cup, and picked up the fork the waitress had left for her. Slowly she squared off a small piece of egg and lifted it to her mouth, showing it to Angela before slipping it between her lips.

"Better?" she mumbled between chews, her friend smiling slyly.

"It's an improvement, so what do you need to do today?"

"I want to go get Parker a birthday present."

"I thought you weren't going?"

"I decided I want to now."

"Out of the blue?"

"I had a gift for him but I lost it…"

"Lost it?"

"When I was attacked, but I want to get him a new one. Something similar to the old one, it was a toy plane."

"He'll like that Bren."

"That's what I was thinking."

* * *

The street sang with the low, rumbling buzz of people moving, speaking and eating, a loud blast of laughter or shout breaking through the thick hum. People sat outside of old style café's placed next to new cell phone shops that sat next to old political buildings turned into apartments and novelty shops. Though D.C. was a relatively modern city, remnants of the past remained in the little shopping quarters of the nation's capital. The street they walked lay adjacent to the one where Angela had found Brennan, this one filled with children's toy and clothes stores, a few bookstores and restaurants.

Having entered several stores Angela had already picked out her and Hodgins' gift for Parker; a small remote controlled "bug-mobile", a fist sized beetle on wheels that could move through grass and sand, and if flipped over could keep going without pause. However despite the number of stores they had entered Brennan had yet to find a gift she thought Parker would want.

Entering a final store on the street a small red and blue model car caught her eye, a Shelby Cobra 289. Staring at the small car kit it reminded her of something Booth would like, like farther like son. Picking up the kit she looked for the price, the small box rattling slightly in her hands. Furthering on into the store Angela wandered two isles of action figures and miniature army tucks and planes, a parade of G.I. Joes staring her down as she crossed into the next isle, this one filled with princess dress up costumes, plastic lipstick, eye shadow and glittering mini heels. Smiling she picked up a feathered wand, the top of which peeked at a pink and yellow star. Turning it over in her hands she felt a sudden pressure on her back, her hips meeting hard against the metal shelf of fake makeup kits.

A hand spread into her hair, then gripped the brown silk hard as it pulled her head back.

"Get your friend out of here." The warm heat of his breath seemed to singe her ear.

"Look buddy; get your hands off me." Reaching into her pocket she began to thumb the cell phone she managed to flip open, desperate to send a message to Bren before this freak could do anything.

"Angela?" a voice called from around the corner of the next Isle, the hand immediately releasing the artist's hair as the agent rounded the corner, Bones by his side.

Looking around Angela saw no one besides the two of them, the force that had pinned her to the shelf no where in sight.

"Booth? What are you doing here?"

"I ran into Bones in the Lego Isle. I'm trying to pick out a present for Parker."

Hearing his voice she felt the skin on her forearms and back tingle and bulge with goose bumps.

"No way…"

"No way what?" Brennan's eyes met hers curiously, something was wrong.

"No way!" the artist smiled falsely, looking between Brennan and Booth, "We were doing the same thing!"

"Bones told me, so do you two want to go get some grub?"

"Grub?"

"Food Bones."

"Oh."

"Hey Booth," Angela beamed again, "Why don't you go head to the diner and we'll meet you there, I still have to buy my present for Parker."

"Sure thing, see you squints there."

Watching him leave the artist moved in closer to her friend, waving as the agent turned back. As he left the small shop Brennan turned to Angela, a concerned look plastered across her face.

"Ange?"

"Okay, I don't mean to freak you out sweetie but some one just pinned me against the my-size Barbie's."

She stayed silent as her friend's face dropped and paled, Brennan's eyes scanning the room around them. Fighting off the need to scream she bit her lips, her fingers playing with the cold bangles that rattled at her wrists. No longer able to fight off the chills her skin crawled, a sinister drip slipping from her throat and into the pit of her stomach. The voice had sounded a hell of a lot like Booths.

A/n: Insert "Twilight Zone theme song" here. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the cliffy!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own, these characters belong to Kathy Riechs, Far Field productions, Josephson entertainment, and Fox

Floating and dizzy, the ground seemed no less than a million miles away as her mind swayed and shuffled like a hasty slug that lurched slowly onward towards its destination. Her senses felt attacked, as though she had abandoned them to the will of some cruel other hand. It couldn't be true, Booth had been with her nearly the entire time, or so she had assumed. But she had walked to Ange with him by her side. Her ears buzzed with tunes that hummed low and deep, each differing from ear to ear.

"Angela it's improbable, _impossible_. Booth was with me when we found you; in fact Booth was with me _minutes_ before we found you."

"Bren, sweetie, I promise I'm not just making this up. I have no reason too."

"I know Ange." She paused as tried to keep her knees from buckling; the very thought made her stomach churn. "But how could have been him?"

"Been who?" Both women jumped, a chill swirling like smoke into the depth of Brennan's gut, her hands trembling as she reached involuntarily for her friend.

"The new intern from the Jeffersonian ancient arts department, I though I saw him on the way over, but Bren didn't think it was him." Temperance Brennan, until this very moment in time, had drastically underestimated her friend's acting abilities.

"His hair looked too long." Was all she could come up with, her legs wobbling beneath her.

"Bones?" he reached for her as though he could see how badly her knees shook behind her skirt.

"I'm fine Booth."

"Angela, what happened?"

The artist just stared at Bren, offering him nothing in way of enlightenment. The two women shared a knowing glance and he watched as Brennan went to speak, Angela's hand tightening on her friends as she began to spoke.

"Some one attacked Ange in the toy store, and threatened both of us."

"But I think it was nothing, I mean it's been all over the news so maybe-" She was cut off

"Angela thought it was you."

"What?" he sounded honestly astounded, a hint of offense slipping beneath the words.

"Booth, it was your voice, I don't know any other way to describe it."

He looked to the scientist for help, to the woman who had once thought like Angela did now; that he had attacked her.

"Booth, you know I know it wasn't you, then and now."

"Maybe we shouldn't have lunch." He looked at Angela as the words escaped his lips.

"No, Booth." She refused to look at him, though her eyes met Brennan's. "I'm sorry. I know it couldn't have been you, but that's no reason not to be concerned. Who ever it was did not want Brennan in that shop."

"It could have been Him Booth." Her eyes portrayed every emotion he had seen the day he had followed her into the ally, and he hated it.

"Then let's not eat here. We can go back to the Jeffersonian; we can pick something up on the way there." he shrugged. "Maybe he left something on you Angela." Her name sounded dry on his tongue and she knew that she had been mistaken.

Forty minutes later they each sat around the short, rectangular table that rested in the upper level lounge, empty Chinese cartons littering the glass like greasy red and white huts. The entire team surrounded the paper and grease village, a comfortable but concerned silence encasing them as each seemed to think. He only contact amongst the troupe sat between Hodgins and Angela, as, fingers laced, they each rubbed the others hand with a thumb. Finally someone straightened and spoke into the concave silence.

"This is Bull." The words were angry and as poignant as bullets amongst the group as Hodgins once again slouched into the quiet.

"The Tech guys didn't find anything Angela?"

The question came from the opposite side of the table, the words this time belonging to Booth.

"No, he said that the man must have been wearing gloves."

"Why was there no action made to obtain the make and origin of the said gloves?" Zack chirped in, his eyes remaining down and his knuckles white as his fingers interlaced each other.

"Zack, there was a very limited, practically immeasurable amounts of residue left from these gloves and the make of and substance from which they were created is extremely common. It would be nearly impossible to trace the exact pair of gloves." Brennan croaked, the reassurance she was trying to convey coming back to bite at her own hope.

Booth, his partners frail form sitting next to him, hunched and fragile, desperately wanted to hold her hand as Hodgins held Angela's; To stroke it lightly with reassurance and strength. But he couldn't, he had no idea how she would react.

"Doesn't this mean that he had been following you?" the sixth voice sang into the argument, its tone serious and stubborn. "And that he knows you." Cam stood at the edge of the lounge, arms crossed under her chest as she looked from the ground to the group.

"He knew to call you Bones. He knew Booth's name and he knew how close your relationship is."

The five looked at her silent. No one made a motion to speak or to react in any way.

"I know you don't want to think about this, but it has to be someone both of you know, maybe someone who works here, maybe a mutual friend." She uncrossed her arms, palms up to the sky as if asking for an answer and giving up simultaneously.

"We don't have mutual friends." Brennan's voice seemed to waver suddenly, the idea that the attacker knew her had yet to occur to her until that very moment. It made sense.

"But we work with tons of people outside of the Jeffersonian on a weekly basis, it could be anyone." The thought made his skin tingle and crawl.

"What makes you think he's outside of the Jeffersonian?" Angela's voice finally entered the conversation.

"Some one within the Jeffersonian wouldn't have done it. They know how far we look into cases."

"But they would also be capable of successfully pulling off such an attack without the potential of being apprehended. We are experts; we know what not to leave and how not to leave it." Zack looked between Brennan and Cam, waiting for approval.

Cam's nod reassured him. "And it would be plausible to assume that we would do just as we are doing now; over looking the possibility that it is some one amongst us. We can't rule out any feasible conclusions."

"I don't even want to think about this right now." Angela's grip on Hodgins hand loosened as her own made their way to her face, her delicate fingers rubbing the light skin of her temples.

"What is today's date?" the question escaped Brennan's clenched teeth. She did not want to handle this right now.

"The ninth." The answer came from Hodgins as his hand brushed the back of Angela's blouse.

"Why do you ask?" Cam's arms once again wrapped around her torso.

"You can't bring Parker here on his Birthday." Her eyes dazzled for a moment, and then she stood, one hand on her hip, head down and the other hand scratching at the heavy wrap that covered the wrist that sat on the hip. "But I have an Idea."

A/n: Sorry it took forever! And I thought it needed a little Cam action. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be here soon!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own, these characters belong to Kathy Riechs, Fox, Josephson entertainment and far field productions.

The soft pounding of footsteps and the urgent breathing of the human body seemed like a dream; the passion within the need to keep going, the surge of adrenaline and the exotic pulse of the body's life blood. But the will to stay still, and to wait, to be patient in the face of fear. She wanted to run, but could not.

They had argued about the idea for three days, harsh words being exchanged only moments ago between the Agent and the Scientist. The team had been divided completely in half; Brennan, Zack, and Cam all saw the plan objectively, it made sense and could possibly work. Angela, Hodgins and especially Booth hated it. It did not make sense, and would work too well; Brennan would be in too much danger.

Brennan's idea had been to put herself in harms way. She was going to be her attackers bate, while Booth and several other FBI agents watched. He had hated it from the moment he heard it, the moment the words slipped between her eager lips into the astounded silence of the room. The night prior to Parker's birthday, an event she saw directly connected with the attacks, she would stay late in the lab after a fire alarm was set off. It was a Friday night, everyone would be ready to go and would not be allowed to re-enter the lab; they would be sent off to parties, or social events, or just home. And she would be alone. Hopefully. According to her plans she would not be. As Booth and two other agents stood by she would wait, and hoped, that her attacker would show up for another strike. If he did watch her as they suspected, if he knew her as well as they thought he did, he would know she hadn't left, and would himself, stay.

Now she wanted nothing but out. In twenty minutes the entire lab would be cleared, in ten the fire alarm would sound. And she would stay. She wanted to hurl, a notion that pulled her slowly and painfully back to nearly two and a half weeks ago, when the first attack had occurred. She had done nothing, it seemed, but hurled, and cried, and been so frightened she couldn't sleep, breathe, or function without thinking the man would be right behind her, breathing into her neck, and waiting. Just waiting, precisely as she prepared to do now. She hadn't felt that way in what seemed like forever but in what had literally only been days.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted with the shrill ringing of the fire alarm. A loud voice that seemed too familiar to her rang over the speakers.

"This is a test, please collect all of your belongings and exit the building through the designated and nearest fire exits." However this time a tag ending was included. "Employees will not be allowed to return to the building after approximately 8:40 PM, please collect all of your belongings."

She watched longingly as Angela passed her, jacket in hand, her eyes silently pleaded that the plan that was being so abruptly engaged be just as quickly ended. But she merely smiled and managed a false "I'll be there in a second." Standing in the doors of her office she watched as Hodgins hand caught Angela's hip, walking her out, Zack trailing behind them like a lost puppy and finally Cam, who turned to her, nodding what seemed to be a goodbye in a sea of evacuating lab workers but what was a sincerely concerned, and stern look.

In that moment she felt the urge more intensely than ever before. Her crew, her support was leaving, and though she knew Booth was somewhere near by, though she wasn't informed exactly where, he couldn't ever be close enough right now. Silently she watched, her eyes scanning the crowd, as the last few blue lab coats exited the building. She was now utterly, and completely alone.

Special Agent Seeley Booth stood several floors above her, hidden in shadow, on the cat walk that outlined the huge lab, his gun steady and barely holstered at his hip. In his ear was a small flesh toned earpiece, attached to his collar a small microphone. On the other end of these devices were Special Agent's Hernado Cruz, and Timothy Bane. He cared much for neither of them, but that didn't matter right now. All he thought about in this very moment was the woman who sat below him, legs crossed, pretending to work at one of the many computer stations set up around the lab. He knew she was frightened, her hands trembled across the keyboard as she typed. He shouldn't have agreed to this, it was a horrible idea and now she was in danger. Softly pressing the mic that rested on his collar he whispered into it.

"We need to back out of this, I don't want her hurt."

"Cool it Booth." One voice crackled into his ear. "We'll be cautious as hell."

"Yeah Man, Ain't nothin' happened yet." The second was in a thick southern accent. It was Timothy Bane, a man he more than disliked. They had gone through the academy together and Booth was still amazed that he had some how graduated. The guy had not even dim wits if any, and to top it all off had no respect for anyone, especially women.

Thirty long minutes dragged on, still nothing had happened, and now Brennan had begun to look around the room, playing an I spy of sorts, attempting to locate one of the Agents. The only sound that filled the huge room was the nervous tapping of her heels under the desk at which she still sat. She suddenly wished she hadn't denied the earpiece she had been offered. To feel connected somehow would have been more than a miracle as she sat alone. Then it came, the horrible gut feeling, the tingling and urgency.

She had to use the bathroom.

_No way._ Was all she could think, but suddenly and urgently she had to use the restroom.

He watched as a look of concern came over her face and she began to desperately look above and around her. Had she heard something he had not? Had she seen anything?

Tapping the small mic again she spoke.

"You guy's see anything? Hear anything?"

"Nothing Here Booth."

"Man this ain't even that exciting."

He wanted to find the guy and punch his lights out, but at the moment he caught her eyes landing on him and quickly forced his arm into and out of the light that stood inches from him. Her eyes lit up and she knew it was him. Abruptly she stood, and looked up towards him, then towards the other end of the lab. He was immediately confused. Pushing the mic a third time.

"Something over there?"

"Nope, I don't see anything Booth."

"Who cares?"

"Tim, you son of a bitch, one more smart ass comment and screw the set up, I'll end it and kick your ass right here." Booth's voice seemed to boom into the mic.

"Yessir" the sarcasm in his voice was thicker than molasses.

Looking down Booth was filled with a terror that sank into his heart like a steel rail-way pin. She was gone. Panic struck him like an Iron fist. Hitting the mic he barely was able to keep his voice a whisper.

"Get your asses down there, Now." Three heavy sets of foot falls were heard as each made his way to the lab floor.

"Where they hell did she go?!" he screamed now, forgetting the mic. Suddenly from behind him appeared Cruz, who had been stationed in Angela's office, Tim appearing from above them in the second floor lounge.

"Hell if I know." Croaked Tim, he now seemed genuinely concerned.

"I didn't see anything either Booth." Cruz already had his gun drawn and ready.

"Cruz you head that way." He pointed towards where she had last been standing, "Tim, you take the opposite wing, I'll take the Offices."

With that they separated. The search had begun.

She had thought it alright to use the bathroom after Booth had shown himself to her. She felt her signal was enough; he knew where the bathrooms were. So she had gone, now in the stall she zipped up the back of her skirt, the toilet flushed, and her hands poised to open the stall. Just as she reached for the lock she heard the door swing open and slam shut, the sound an eerie, nerve freezing sensation. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He _had _come for her.

A/n: Wow! Two chapters! So close together! Hope you enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Kathy Reichs, far field productions, Josephson entertainment and Fox.

The sound was overbearing and searing; like a thick blade of lightning caressing sheet metal. The first stall was slammed open in sync with the leap her heart made with the bubbling nausea from her stomach to her throat. The gag threatened to spread her pursed lips and spill over into the room. The first stall had been slammed open. The thick lump beat and urged her to take action but the sound of the second stall slamming immediately ceased all thought that could have occurred in way of decision making. Knuckles paling against the force with which her hands flexed open and shut, she counted the stalls she had passed on the way in; she was in the fourth of five. The third smashing sound felt as though she had been punched in the chest, the blow reverberating through the hallow space as her heart now sat in her mouth in a pool of bile. She had to move now. Climb on the toilet and try to get into the ceiling and risk him seeing her? Or slip into the third stall and hope he doesn't notice? The decision was made for her as she saw the two black boots move towards her stall, her thin finger silently unlatching the lock and slipping under the separator between the third and fourth stall just as the fourth boom sounded and as his shoulder passed the opening of the third stall's door. She cursed herself for being forced into a decision, ashamed of her fear. Another decision laid itself before her, she could make a run for the door, which she could now see had been closed, possibly locked, or she could try for the ceiling. The fifth slam rang into her ears as his tirade was over. Slowly she moved herself up onto the seat of the toilet; her thin heals slipping on the cheap plastic, his shoes tapping a deep rhythm on the bathroom floor as he made his way to the door. He must have seen her shut the stall's door and heard the lock click. Her fingers reached towards the thin metal framing and ugly off white tiling just as his foot met the old, metallic door. Her fingers burnt against the sharp steel as she pulled herself into the ceiling, the fragile tiles bending under the weight she could not consider in her escape.

Suddenly she was enveloped in complete darkness, the black consuming and blinding her. The sound of the stall's door breaking below nearly killed her. The sound of him climbing into the ceiling behind her accomplished what the door could not. This man, her attacker, was right behind her in a peerless darkness that swallowed them both completely. The heart in her mouth buzzed a melody, not beats. Her hands and knees scraped against tile after tile, Plexiglas shards and metal ripping into her skin as she crawled, his breath seeming to move over her skin as fingers would, angrily probing every inch of her. She could hear him behind her, crawling just as she did, though she imagined him to be much more excited about the entire event than she; she was the mouse to his cat and was about to miss the mouse hole in the wall. Abruptly the sounds of his movement stopped, the only rustling being that of her own body in terror. She could feel the newly heeled and scarred wounds on her knees bleeding against the grimy tiles, her breath catching on the heart between her lips. A moment of calm, she had stopped to listen and catch her breath, the thought of him lurking in the darkness with her pressing her to keep moving. The ceiling was filled with an eerie silence quickly interrupted with a ferocious squeal from somewhere below her, the world dropping out from below her.

The tile hit the linoleum first, then her shoulders, then her neck, head, legs and arms; the sensation was that of being set into a bath of too-warm water as the air left her lungs like air let out of a popped balloon, air that her body instantly wanted it back. The brain that had been in her mouth was now lodged in between her spinal cord and brain, the obstruction blocking the messages that were meant to move between the two, to signal her arms tom move, her eyes to open. Short, labored gasps began to rack her body, her limbs aching with the fall's force and the vision temporarily knocked out of her eyes. In what seemed like days the light began to slip back to her visions revealing to her the lobby just beyond the lab's glass doors, behind which stood Booth, his back to the doors and completely oblivious to the fact that she had just tumbled out of the ceiling. Sitting up she cringed against the stiffness in her back, her lungs emitting all of their contents again as two hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her into the air as her scream leapt into the space around them, this time grabbing Booth's attention as he turned and stared at her, his expression softening as his eyes met her. What the hell was he doing? She began to struggle, her burning arms dancing about her captor's body trying to scramble free. Booth only then seemed to realize what was happening as his eyes took in the ceiling tile laying beneath her and how panicked she was. Rushing towards the glass door he bid them open with the pressing of a button, the sound of her threats and her handler's orders.

"Tim let go of her!" boomed into her mind and she looked up, relieved to see he had come to her rescue, his eyes meeting hers as he moved to get a hold of her waist and look into the ceiling. As he prompted her to walk she turned to look at the man who had been holding her, undoubtedly, she realized now, another agent as he wore all black and an ear piece similar to Booth's. He was the same build as booth, but had a thinner face, with deep set sky blue eyes and dusty blonde hair, freckles splattered over his cheeks and nose. She felt the need to apologize to him, but couldn't find the words or the effort, the adrenaline leaving her body and leaving her tired and sore. She sulked against Booth's warm body, hers feeling suddenly cold and distraught. She needed to sit and was thankfully pushed lightly down into a lab chair sitting adjacent to one of the observation tables. He knelt down next to her, his own breath slightly labored now, not from her weight against him but from concern.

"What happened?"

"He found me. He…I went to the bathroom, I thought you had given me approval, I looked towards the restrooms then at you, when I was getting ready to leave he entered the bathroom and started slamming stall doors open. He got to mine and I slipped into the next and then I climbed into the ceiling." Her words came out all at once; a blast of desperate sounds and gasps for breath.

"And he followed you up there." She nodded and took a deep breath. She looked around noticing Cruz and Tim's closeness to them; they had both moved in to hear the story.

"Booth," the man who had held her had a southern accent, his lips quivering slightly as he spoke, as though he was a young kid who was going to get into trouble for what he was about to confess. "I went in the bathroom looking for her."

Her eyes widened and her breath stopped, the immediate urge to get away from him burning in her chest. Was he the one who chased her into the ceiling? The only thing she recalled seeing of the man were his shoes, which she now looked for on the agent, only to find he was wearing a pair of old basket ball sneakers, not black boots.

"But I didn't slam doors open." His eyes tried to meet hers but she was too focused on Booth's expression. "I knocked on each stall; all five of them were empty. I was walking back to the lab when she fell through the damn roof, scared the shit out of me."

She now looked up at him her eyes widening once again this time in epiphany, "He kicked in the third stall's door, it should be broken off its hinges." She met Booth's eyes sincerely, the blue washed out with exhaustion and fear.

"Cruz, you go check the bathroom, if any of the doors are damaged or missing." The agent instantly made his way towards the glass doors, disappearing down the hall as he went to the restrooms. The time that lapsed between his departure and return seemed like seconds, like he wasn't gone long enough. But Booth accepted his answer: No broken or damaged hinges or doors. The bathroom looked fine.

"No, he kicked the door off." Her eyes pleaded with Booth's, surely Cruz was mistaken, had gone in the wrong bathroom.

"Bones, Cruz just checked."

"No Booth, I heard him kick the door off, he slammed the other's open, he was chasing me."

"Maybe this is just some bullshit psychotherapy crap." Chimed in Tim, his hands shoved into his black slack. The comment awarded him a look from Booth that could have ended an ice age.

"I am not lying Booth, go check, I want to come with you." His eyes searched her for some time before he stood up, her hand in his. He led her through the glass doors and towards the bathroom. Upon pushing open the large wooden door he entered first, her slight form entering right behind him. Slowly they moved to the third stall, finding the door on its hinges, and perfectly unharmed.

"God no." her eyes welled and her lips dropped, her arms limp by her sides. But he had come to get her. Again. He had. He had. He had. He had. He had.

A/n: sorry it took so long to update!! Enjoy!


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